


Fire and Fury

by CosimaHellahaus



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 22:43:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15616644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosimaHellahaus/pseuds/CosimaHellahaus
Summary: This is a story about Chloe being gay for Rachel and hella gay for Max.Inspired by the marshmallow dream with Choe and William from Life is Strange - Before the storm.





	Fire and Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Let me know if you find any typos.
> 
> Playlist to go with it (imo): https://open.spotify.com/user/215jnsq2bmnj4jhpfhcfjh4pq/playlist/2m01EwZY8bWdlnPz5ZwMFE?si=0UOnGDpORFWj7aOvJykE3Q

 

You wake up in your truck with the sensation of not being able to breathe. The air is tight, doesn’t glide down your throat and into your lungs. You raise yourself and look ou the windshield. Dad is there. He’s roasting marshmallows at the fire that burned down your entire world two years ago.

You get out of the truck and go to him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach. You know how this is going to end. You know you’d take this punch to the gut every day of the rest of your life if it meant getting to see Dad, even if you can’t touch him. You grab a stick from the ground and pin a marshmallow to the pointy end. You sit down on the fallen tree trunk and keep the marshmallow close to the fire rising from the hood of Dad’s car.  The warmth covers your body, like a hug. It lands on your face, relaxes your muscles. Tension seeps out from your joints, your eyelids, the cornes of your mouth. The fire feels like safety.

 

_Somehow, your infatuation got the best of you. You’d promised to yourself you’d never got on that stage. But Rachel, Rachel with her big green eyes, Rachel with her cheeky smile. Rachel with her voice, voice promising things you never even dared to dream, Rachel convinces you to do it. She knew she’d won that battle the moment she asked you to see her before the show._

_So you put on the stupid costume, and you read the stupid lines over and over again, even though your brain just keeps saying “Rachel, Rachel, Rachel,” like a broken cassette. Everythink is mushed together and before you know there are lights bliding you, and one hundred faces looking at you. Sweat pools in at the back of your neck, between your hot skin and the hem of the dress._

_Rachel shines in front of you. She says something you can barely register._

_She’s so fucking beautiful, even with the corny mask on._

_The silence gets longer, pushes the half-forgotten lines back down your throat. The temperature goes up 20 degrees. You manage to choke out something, sounding more like a dying bird than a prepared actress. But Rachel saves the situation, like she always does. She takes it from there, makes your job extremely simple. She deliveres your lines on a silver platter._

_Until the doesn’t. Until she gets down on one knee, until she takes your sweaty hand into her own, until she starts talking about running away and seeing the world together. There’s electricity in your chest, short-circuiting everything. You can’t think. You can’t speak._

_Someone from the crowd shouts at you to say “yes!”, meaning Rachel asked you a question._

_You do, but can’t help but hope you were just Chloe right now and Rachel was just Rachel, and that you were at the junkyard lying on some rusty car and that she had whispered the question in your ear, that it was real._

_But people start clapping, so you couldn’t have fucked it up completely. Rachel gets up to her feet again and squeezes your hand just so. No one else notices, but you know what it means._

_Maybe it wasn’t real, but it sure as hell wasn’t fake._

_You leave the scene, the round of applause trailing behind you. Mr. Keaton says something that sounds like a praise, but you’re going away too fast to be sure. Air. Maybe some booze. That’s what you need right know. Someone stops you just as you’re dragging the dress up over your head. One more second in this and you’ll suffocate._

_“Wait! You have to have in on at the end! When the cast goes on stage.”_

_Well, fuck. At least no one’s stopping you as you grab a bottle of wine from the secret stash Rachel has told you about, in the girls’ tent. Guess artists know how to party._

_“Oh my god, Keaton’s face behind you when you walked on stage…” Rachel is laughing._

_“Ugh, I was shitting myself!” You smile at her. She keeps pirouetting around you, tip-toeing on the ege of the street, her laughter filling the night, and the spaces between your ribs. “That dude owes me.”_

_“Oh, I love nights after a show! And you…you were amazing!”_

_You want to backfire, because how can the sun compliment the moon for shining? But she’s a cascade, nothing stands in her way. You kind of want to try, but when her eyes fixate on yours all words get stuck in your throat, so you let her ramble on._

_“It’s such a high…no more nerves, just the adrenaline…So, first timer. Are you proud of yourself?” She turns around and stops, you almost walk into her._

_The edges of your mouth lift up. “Yeah, I feel really…awesome. If you’d told me this morning I’d be this happy tonight?” You shake your head._

_A frowns settle upon Rachels face, toning down her enthusiasm. “You went through so much shit today…”_

_You take a step closer, “yeah, but right now is pretty good,”. You stratch at the back of your night, expecting to find some annoying insect, but you only feel your own fine hairs, all up on end. You take a deep breath, “okay, the whole show was pretty good, I admit it.”_

_She takes a step towards you, almost eats her words as she lets them out, “Yeah, it was magical.” Rachel holds her hand out, look at you expectantly._

_Maybe it’s wishful thinking, maybe you’re drunk on adrenaline, but you discern some nervousness in her eyes as well, midst the confidence and what you’d definitely call lust._

_You take her hand, her fingers gliding between yours. Her palm is smooth against your own, you can’t help but let your thumb wander over it. Delight is the only thing you’re feeling right now._

_You kinda look at each other, kinda don’t, mostly just walk and bump into one another, sides meeting above your intertwined hands. You’d like to be able to say something smart or sweet right about you, but you can only focus on the smile on Rachel’s face, the way her hair half covers it when she looks at her feet._

_Fire. Warm. Encompassing. Lightening you up._

_Fire._

_Suddenly, she drags you to a halt. “Let’s leave. For real.” She lets go of your hand and grips the street light. Realistically, you know you have no reason to be jealous of the street light._

_Rachel starts talking more and more excitedly about you skipping town. You try to keep up the mood, but the heavy, sinking stone in your stomach drags you down, and the cornes of your mouth along with it._

_You play along, as she describes every single one of your dreams in her road trip plan._

_“And then, this guy with no shirt on will come at you as the gas station and say ‘that’s so hot, that you know about cars…” her voice drops three octaves and she mocks every single middle aged man you’ve seen while tanking you truck. But she’s not done yet, because she won’t be done until she literally kills you, “bu then I’ll come in and say, ‘hey, she’s with me!’”_

_You shove her because it would be embarassing as hell if she saw how red you were right now. “You’re full of shit!” Your voice doesn’t sound that convincing in your ears, but Rachel isn’t really listening, she just goes on:_

_“I love this time of night! Don’t you feel like everything’s possible?”_

_She spins round and round, laughing, as carefree as you’ve ever seen her. But you can’t share the feeling._

_“Rachel…stop. If you don’t mean this, it’s just making me feel like shit, that this life you’re describing is never going to happen.” You’re in too deep to play it cool. Now, you can only hope for mercy._

_“For fuck’s sake! I’ve never been more serious in my life!” She takes your hands, both of them this time, and spins you around. It’s nice, but she can see your laugh isn’t really your own. “Chloe, what would it take to convince you?”_

_She sounds serious enough for you to actually consider asking for a kiss. Do you dare? Would you be able to live with it if she doesn’t?_

_A chance like this doesn’t come twice. Act on it or leave, Price._

_“How about…um…” You kinda start shaking your head, trying to free the last word from your throat. But Rachel has read people her entire life, so she understands anyway._

_“Oh.”_

_Is that a good oh? Or a bad oh? You don’t have time to think about it any longer, because she takes your hands and pulls at them so that you look down, and she’s way closer than she was one second ago, and closer, and closer. Her lips touch yours, but you’re so shocked you don’t move a muscle at first._

_Kiss her back, you dumbass! Your brain wakes to up to life and you start kissing her back. But when her fingers come up and cup your face, your knees go weak and you have to steady yourself, so the only thing you can do is put your hands on her waist and bring her closer._

_You’re on fire. You’re a fire and Rachel is the magician making the rules, but you really don’t care because her lips are really, really soft and she tastes really, really good. You caress her back as she puts her hands in your hair, bringing you even closer._

_More of this and she’ll have to CPR you afterwards. She must feel your heart beating out of your chest, because you can feel her smile in the kiss. It’s so sweet it makes you want to cry, but you keep it in because who knows when you’ll get a chance like this again?_

_When she finally pulls away, which is just as well because your blood pressure has reached ungodly highs, you can’t help but say,_

_“Holy shit.” You keep mouthing ‘o’ without letting out any sounds, like a fish on dry land._

_Rachel offers you a cheeky smile.”Right?”_

_You don’t have time to decide if that’s a ‘right-what-a-great-kiss’ or a ‘right-I’m-a-great-kisser’ because there’s white fluff falling from the sky, but you’re too high on her to analyse if it’s snow or some other vodoo Blackhell shit._

_Rachel laughs again, carefree as always, but you can’t accurately share her happiness because she left a Rachel-shaped hole inside of you the moment the kiss ended. You smile dumbly. You must be looking like an idiot. But she’s here, and you’re here, and maybe you’re kinda here together? And when she meets your gaze again, you know._

_This is something neither of you will regret in the morning._

_Your mom looks so happy she almost starts crying when see sees you walking down the stairs the following morning. She must’ve really thought you felt. But how do you tell her you might as well not be here, because your heart never left Rachel’s house? How do you tell her you’re actually still holding Rachel, in her room, kissing her forehead when you hear her sniff next to you? How do you tell her you’re okay? That you’re starting to be feel okay?_

_You don’t. Not now, when David’s here. She must hear it in your voice anyway. It wasn’t drugs that kept you away from home. You don’t dare put a name on what it was, and she doesn’t make you, and you really, really love her right now._

_It does break you heart a little when you close the door on her, but you think of Rachel again and your resolve strenghtens._

_You grab the toolbox and head to the junkyard._

 

“Dad?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even turn to look at you. He just keeps his head straight, eyes on the wildfire rising high to the sky on the horison.

“Beautiful, isn’t it Chloe? I just can’t seem to look away.”

“Sure.” You agree with him. The memory of home starts floating inside your head, and finally takes the shape of green eyes and long, blond hair.

“Don’t pretend you’re not mesmerized.” Angry. “You don’t realize how dangerous fire is.”

 

_“Look, none of this matters. All we care about is that you stop asking questions. Got it?”_

_Frank saves you. He and Damon turn around, when you feel Rachel move forward next to you. When she opens her mouth you drown in cold sweat._

_“No.”_

_You jump in front of her and shake your head. ‘Please don’t’. But she’s looking straight ahead, seeing through you, and then actually seeing behind you, because she shoves you to the side. Is she blind, or does she just not care?_

_“Tell me where she is. Now.”_

_Her name escapes you. Damon turns around, smiling from ear to ear. It’s horrible to watch._

_Then a knife. Threats. Frank, saving you, again. Rachel, thinking she’s invincible, again. A bang. Blood on Damon’s face. The knife, flashing before your eyes. A sigh from Rachel. Blood. A lot of blood._

_You’re petrified._

_Frank wakes you up. That’s the third time he saves you today. You start believing in guardian angels._

_You pick Rachel up and more or less carry her to the truck. You pray to all the gods it will start, and it does, and you must be on some lucky streak or something, because you manage to drive to the hospital like a madwoman without crashing into anything on the way._

 

You know you shouldn’t look straight into the flames, but you can’t help yourself. Your eyes dry up, you can feel the burn in the back of your orbits.

You don’t look away.

 

_You and Rachel are at the lighthouse, playing footsie on the bench. She’s distracted. She has been distracted ever since the whole Sera bussiness, and no matter what you do you can’t seem to bring her back to earth. Maybe this is just another way for her to run away._

_“Rachel?”_

_“Hm?”_

_You poke her so she will look at you. “Did you hear me at all?”_

_She hums and shakes her head. “Sorry. What did you say?”_

_“I asked how life is going at Blackwell. We haven’t really hung out much since…well…”_

_You both know what you mean, so you leave the words hanging in the air, they fill the ever growing distance between you._

_You’re genuinely curious. Ever since lying to Rachel and telling her Sera skipped town, you have drifted apart. Little by little. The fear of her knowing the truth frets your nerves, makes them feel like tense violin strings, ready to snap anytime. Her explanations, having to focus on finals, which you know are complete bullshit, haven’t helped._

_Last time you went to Frank there was Rachel’s photo, half covered by some invoice. You can’t help but wonder._

_“It’s going well I guess. A lot to do. I just wanna get outta here, but I never seem to be able to…”_

_“Wanna go to my place?”_

_She doesn’t say no, but she doesn’t say yes either, so you just get up and offer her your hand, which she takes. Relief. Maybe you’re okay, after all._

_You climb into your room through the window, you really don’t want David you ask you any annoying questions, or your mother to give you the ‘don’t-forget-to-use-protection-speech’. You go first and offer Rachel your hand afterwands, but she waves you off and lands on the floor with a small thud._

_“Badass.” You smile and she winks back._

_The goodies are somewhere under the bed. You scour after them while Rachel studies your walls, like she always does. When you find them you takes a joint, get up, and walk up behind Rachel until you’re almost touching. You stretch out a hand in front of her,_

_“Here.”_

_She takes it and puts it between her teeth, taking a step back so your whole bodies are touching._

_“Lighter?” She asks in the most innocent voice possble._

_You fish it out of your pocket and try giving it to her, but she won’t take it, so you hold it under her joint as she takes a deep breath._

_A sweet, suffocating smell fills the room._

_“Sharing is caring, you know,” you say._

_So Rachel turns around and takes the joint from her mouth, puts it into yours. She doesn’t break eye contact._

_“Anything else you’d like me to share with you, Ms. Price?” Her voice drops to the floor and swipes you off your feet._

_Oh, definitely. But you won’t say that. You may be thristy, but you’re not mortally dehydraded._

_“I don’t know, Ms. Amber. What did you have in mind?”_

_She starts walking towards you, but you take a step back, until you feel the edge of the bed behind you. Your knees buckle. You tell yourself it’s intentional._

_Rachel sits down in your lap, takes the joint from your lips and takes a drag before putting it out in the ash tray next to your bed. She comes right back up and starts kissing you, almost ferociously, her hands high in your blue hair._

_You hold her in the small of her back, moving down to her hips and then up again, this time under her shirt._

_When she holds your bottom lip between her teeth, you’re a goner. You raise yourself up with her still in your lap and turn around, so that this time she’s the one on the bed, and you’re the one above her._

_You help her move further up and you climb up with her, without really stopping for air._

_As you put your knee down for support between her legs, as she starts grinding slowly against it, as you can feel her losing her breath against your lips, you know._

_You know you’re as dependent of her as a fire is of the oxygen around it. You need her around you, so close your separate bonds break and the atoms that make you mold together, absorbing all your energy, all the love you have to give. You need her small sighs in your ear, you need her nails against your back. Her hands holding onto your shoulders._

_As she whispers your name like it’s the holiest thing she knows, you know directly you’ll do anything to keep hearing it for the rest of your life._

_When you’re satisfied with the look of pure bliss on her face, you plop down next to her, resting your head on your arm and you watch her face going through a miriad of emotions. Her sighs say happy but her eyebrows say regret, and you don’t say anything, because the bubble may be doomed but you sure as hell aren’t the one that’s going to break it._

_“Sometimes…most of the time I don’t deserve you, Chloe Price.”_

_You want to sush her, but she shakes her head. “Please.”_

_“I don’t, because I catch myself being too much of my father’s daughter.”_

_She turns her head to look at you. You have never seen her this serious before. “You have so much love to give, Chloe. So much love, but I need to get out of here.”_

_You push a loose hairstrand out of her face. “So I’ll come wih you. I’d follow you…anywhere.”_

_“I know.” She turns her head away, so she looks at the roof instead. “You’re too amazing not to.”_

_Rachel Amber is ancient hyerogliphs and you’re blind._

_“Rachel.”_

_She’s not looking at you._

_“Rachel.” Your voice almost cracks. Maybe that’s what makes her turn. “I love you. I just want you to be happy.”_

_You don’t continue with an ‘even if it’s not with me’ because you’re not that strong, and in all honestly you can’t swallow that pill._

_She kisses you, then._

_You’d take anything._

_Blackwell appears from behind the trees as you stop the truck by the main entrance. Heavy metal blasts from the speakers, turning heads on the sidewalk. You see Rachel walk down the stairs, accompanied by a man in his thirties, looking more like a pininterest picture than a real human. He tells Rachel something and she laughs, and you know you have nothing to be jealous of because she may be laughing at his joke but it’s you she kisses. Rachel sees you waiting, because she starts running down the stairs._

_You turn down the music._

_“Don’t forget to research this further!” He shouts after her._

_“Don’t you worry Mr. Jefferson.” Then she gets in your truck._

_“Hey babe,” you lean over to kiss her, but she’s still half looking at him so it turns out to be a peck on the cheek instead._

_“Hey Chloe.” When you’re back on your side of the seat and turn the motor on again, she finally turns to look at you. “So what was this big surprise all about?”_

_You wink at her, “You’ll see.”_

_After you leave town and things quiet down, you finally muster the courage to ask her,_

_“So who was that guy?” Rachel looks at you like she has no idea what you’re talking about. “The guy you were talking to before we left Blackhell.”_

_“Ohh! Him,” You see Rachel smiling out of the corner of your eye. “That’s the new photography teacher, Mr. Jefferson. He dropped by theatre class today, we had a little workshop about how we act on stage and how it appears on camera. He’s supercool. We talked about all those old techniques to move your body on stage, and how fast to do it, and how a good photographer can lift up the actor, while a bad one can ruin the entire play.”_

_“So a pretentious dick, basically?” You don’t mean to sound bitter._

_“He’s one of the best, he can be as pretentious as he likes.” There’s a bite in her tone you haven’t heard before._

_It’s probably best to change the subject. You haven’t spent the past week working on this just to have it ruined by some jerk who fucks his hair gel._

_You ask about her friends, how Victoria is a bitch, you argue a little about Nathan, she says he’s just misunderstood but you know that any Prescott has ‘douche’ as a middle name. By the time you arrive to the park you’ve more or less forgotten about Jefferson._

_You take the bag you’ve prepared with you in one hand, Rachel in the other, and you start walking the long path up to the top of the hill. When you arrive you’re sweaty but happy, and the sun is just tuning out for the day, throwing a warm, orange glow over the entire park._

_You lay down the blanket and get out the picnic basket, wine and plastic glasses. Satisfaction lifts you off the face of the earth as Rachel looks at you in awe._

_“Dinner is served, m’lady.” You take a bow, she laughs._

_Is this what love feels like?_

_When you’re done eating and throwing grapes at each other, when you’re both giggling from the wine, when her head rests in your lap and your worries disappear from your shoulders, you take out the actual surprise._

_It’s a work contract for the diner. In six months you’ll have enough money for the both of you to leave and never look back. You’ll be able to go whereever you want._

_Rachel kisses you then, like she means it. Soon your sighs turn to moans, your moans turn into pleas and your pleas turn into nothing, because she steals your breath away._

_Lucky no one else is near._

_You fall asleep on that hill, with Rachel by your side and the night sky above you. The wildfire is somewhere on the horison, reminding your subconscious Rachel is more than she seems. But when she burries her head in your chest, when you kiss the top of her head, when it’s just you and her and arms around each other. It doesn’t matter. You’d fight water any day to protect this fire inside you, and even more this fire beside you._

_Rachel starts doing drugs without you. Steph invites you over for some board games with Mickey and Drew. That is Steph beats your asses, you and Mickey are badass while Drew calls you all nerds. Sometime between ravaging the enemy camp and blowing out your left foot Drew’s phone rings and he takes it right there, because he’s knee is still hurting and you’ve already been through hell together so you might as well continue._

_“What’s up?”_

_You don’t recognize the words, but you know the voice on the other end of the line as well as the back of your hand._

_Rachel._

_“Dude, what the fuck do you do with them, you had 10 G like, last week!” Drew sounds more impressed than angry._

_You spin the dice and hum along with whatever Mickey suggests you do. You can see Steph whatching you, knows your presence right now is betwwen the phone and Drew’s ear._

_“Fine, go to Frank, not like I care.” Drew throws away the phone. He looks at you. “Your girlfriend needs to chill.”_

_“She’s not my girlfriend.” You try to sound like that isn’t the only thing you want, but you know you’re not impressing anyone._

_Drew doesn’t tell you to talk to her, because you both know no one can talk sense into Rachel Amber once she’s got her mind set on something._

_She knocks on your window that night, high as fuck._

_You open it. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Her eyes are bloodshot, her skin pale._

_“Then let me in.”_

_Even like this, you can’t say no to her. Besides, it’s probably a good idea. You don’t want to have her safety on your conscience more than you already do._

_“Can I stay here tonight?” She asks like she doesn’t already know the answer._

_“Fine. But you get one pillow. ONE.” She falls down on your bed, mumbling something you don’t hear. You close the window and hop in next to her._

_“Rachel, what’s going on?”_

_“Don’t, Chloe.” She shakes her head. “I can’t right now.”_

_That shuts you up. You stretch out a hand, you’re drawn to her like a moth to the light, but she rolls away from you. You try not to take it personally._

_She’s not herself, you tell yourself. It’s just the drugs._

_You roll away too, so you face the wall instead of your insecurities._

_When you wake up the next morning she’s already gone, but there’s a note of your desk, shiny as hope._

_“Thank you for last night. R”_

_You call her but her phone is shut off, so you don’t even get to hear her voice in her recorded ‘please-come-back’ message._

_You climb out of the window and get into your truck. You text your mom you need to take the day off from work. It pisses her off, but you only reply ‘sorry’ to her long, passive-aggressive message because it’s high time you started picking your battles._

_You drive to the junkyard, but Rachel is nowhere to be found. You know, deep down, you won’t find her because she doesn’t want to be found, but still, you hoped you’d be different. You’d be her lighthouse in the storm. But you’re just another wave._

_You find a bat on the ground and pick it up, ignoring the tears in your eyes._

_You wish Max was here._

_After trashing the junkyard for a couple of hours you give up and lay down a plank. Your arms burn, your eyes burn, your insides burn too. You’re begging to be stopped, but no one cares. Not Steph. Not Rachel. Definitely not Max._

_The more you think about it the angrier you get. The moment she abandoned you she took with her the ropes holding your life together. Now you’re frayed too thin to be saved. You’d like screaming at her. Letting her know exactly what she’s done to you._

_Maybe that’s why you can’t reach her. Maybe she knows and she’s scared of what you’ll have to say. Maybe the adress and the phone number you got were all fake, so that she could ghost you properly._

_Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck her, fuck your whole life. Fuck you._

_FUCK YOU._

_FUCK._

_YOU._

_You find an old blade on the ground and pick it up. It’s rusty and smells of garbage. Goes well with everything else about you._

_You push it against the skin of your arm. Harder. Harder._

_But the blade never penetrates the skin, because you’ve always been a science nerd and you know too well what could happen. You chicken out and throw it away._

_You scream instead, until your throat hurts._

_Any kind of pain will do._

_You go back home and head straight for the shower. You stand under the shower spray until your skin turns pink and it’s sensitive to the touch. You feel new, you stopped thinking about Rachel for at least 2 hours and 40 minutes. You put on fresh clothes, that don’t smell of her. You comb your hair. You’d like to clean your room, but it’s beyond you. Too many memories lying on the floor. You wouldn’t know what to do with them, you can barely deal with yourself. You go downstairs, where David’s watching football on the tv and Mom’s making pancakes. They don’t immediately ask you where you’ve been. Your gratitude makes you go forward and kiss Mom on the cheek. She almost drops the spatula on the floor, but you squeze her shoulder and when she turns to look at you she hears everything you have to say, because she only blinks slowly back at you._

_“The food is almost ready. Why don’t you help set the table, dear?”_

_You want to ask why asshole David isn’t setting the table, does he think it’s 1764 or something? But you swallow your words. You’ve had enough anger the past 24 hours. The only thing you need more than justice right now is a break._

_So you set the table, and dinner is ready, and David nods at you and says hello without any condesceding comments which is more than you’ve gotten before. The atmosphere isn’t pleasant but it’s not nasty either. Mom tells you what her usuals have been up to, David comments about there not being respectful jobs for veterans, you keep quiet._

_You’re done with your food first, but don’t just rush away. You sit there and analyse Mom. David. Yourself, ten years ago, on the wall in front of you with your best friend by your side._

_When they’re done eating as well you thank Mom for the food and go. She almost hugs you, but unconditional love is dangerous, and you can only swallow small doses, so you go before she gets the chance._

_She doesn’t complain though, she never even expected you to show up. Guilt makes the flavor in your mouth taste bitter._

_You throw them one last look before opening the door and leaving. Mom smiles. David cleans the table._

_You’re walking around aimlessly when Rachel calls you._

_You wish you’d have more of a backbone, but you’re weak, and she sounds upset, she wants to meet and of course, of course you’ll meet her._

_You almost run all the way to her place._

_The Ambers greet you cordially, not looking surprised you basically just barged into their home. They ask you how’s it going. Wonder if you’d like some tea. You decline as politely as you can, given you don’t stop rushing to Rachel’s room as the conversation plays out._

_You stop running right in front of Rachel’s door._

_Breathe_

_Three. Two. One._

_Knock-knock._

_“Come in.” You can barely hear her voice through the wood. You open the door. Rachel is sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. Her make-up’s messy._

_She’s been crying._

_“Thank you for coming.” She sounds empty._

_“Of course.” You’re dying to ask her what happened. Who do you have to beat up?_

_You sit down next to her, take her hand between yours. “Rachel…”_

_She’s not looking at you. Actually, she’s avoiding your gaze._

_There’s a bad feeling clawing its way from the bottom of your stomach all the way up to your throat. You fight against it to ask, “What happened?”_

_“I can’t do this anymore.” She’s still not looking at you._

_“What are you talking about?” You sound worried. You’ve never seen her like this before. Worried? Yes. Upset? Yes? Ready to burn the house down? Absolutely. But this complete emptiness? Rachel’s always been so full of life she made everything around her glow._

_“Is it the drugs? Because we can get help. I know someone. We can both quit, we can-“_

_“Chloe.”_

_“We can quit, and we can start over, away from this hellhole-“_

_“Chloe, stop.”_

_The remaining ‘I almost have the money’ gets stuck in your throat. She finally looks at you. That’s when you realize._

_“I’m sorry, Chloe.”_

_Blood drains from your face._

_“I can’t do this anymore,” Rachel says as she’s looking at your intertwined hands._

_She’s breaking up with you._

_You draw your hands like you’ve been burned._

_“What are you talking about?” You feel dumber than you sound._

_What have you done?_

_“I can’t be your girlfriend. I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s not who I am.”_

_“Have I done something? Is it me? Rachel, I’m so sorry if-“ You’re tripping over yourself, trying to beat the tornado you can feel coming, ready to rip you to shreds._

_“God, Chloe, don’t you get it?” She’s screaming now. “You need someone you can depend on! That’s not me! That will never be me!”_

_The “I don’t want it to be me” floats between you, lands like a knife at your throat._

_“I love you, Chloe.” Her voice is so small, it makes you want to hold her. Comfort her. God, aren’t you fucking stupid?_

_“But you don’t want to leave this place. Not really…at least not right now.”_

_Somewhere, in the back of your head, your rational voice tells you she’s not hurting you on purpose. Rachel does care about you. But that voice is drowned out by the screaming of your 16-year-old-self telling you you’re worthless. You will never be good enough for anybody._

_Not for Max. Not for Blackwell. Not for Rachel, either, apparently._

_Life has let you down so many times, you wonder how come you’re not 6 feet under by now._

_Sadness doesn’t become you, though. You won’t accept it. You fight through it, beat it bloody until it’s unrecognizable._

_Good._

_Now you have only your anger left._

_That, you can handle. Your best friend. Always by your side._

_“Fuck you, Rachel.” You get up. The height difference boosts you. “If you loved me you wouldn’t be doing this. You’d return my calls. You’d tell me what’s going on. You wouldn’t just – push me away!”_

_Your hands fly out in front of you, ready to protect you…from what? The hurt in her eyes? The tears streaming down her cheeks? You don’t know, but they keep moving._

_You have to keep moving. If you stop, the inertion stops. It’s just Newton’s first law. No inertion – nothing keeping you together._

_“Have a nice life, Rachel.” You try to go for cool and detached, but your effort gets you only as far as miserable and pathetic._

_You turn around and leave before your judgement gets the better of you and convinces you to go back._

_Her parents are nowhere to be found. You leave the Amber Residence in silence._

_You turn your head and look towards Rachel’s window, but there’s no one there._

_Somehow, it hurts more than anything._

Fire beats you. You look away and lean back from the flames. The absence of warmth on your face is sharp. You immediately want to lean back in, make up for the loss. Your dad speaks up, then.

“Don’t do it. Fire blinds you.”

“With what?”

“Beauty.”

 

_You don’t leave your room for two weeks. Your brain becomes your own home cinema system, replaying all the memories you have of you and Rachel together. Rachel saving you at the concert. Escaping reality together on that train. Two truths and a lie. Shared viewfinder. Almost touching hands. Stealing wine. Sharing wine. Sharing the stage._

_Sharing a kiss._

_Planning a future together.  
Sherlock and Watson. _

_Love, maybe. Love making. In your room. On that hill. In her bed._

_Two truths and a lie._

_Rachel loves you. Rachel used you. Rachel is just Rachel._

_Which is which? You don’t wanna know._

_There’s a knock on you door._

_“Come in.” Fuck off._

_But the door opens. It’s Steph._

_“I heard what happened.”_

_“Well, good thing the gossip streams are intact.”_

_“I’m sorry, Chloe.”_

_It doesn’t take much for tears to pile up in your throat. But Stepth’s a good sport, so she pretends not to notice as you wipe at your eyes._

_“Thanks. I should have seen it coming, I guess.”_

_“Bullshit, Chloe. Rachel cares about you.” Steph comes closer and sits down on your bed, but you don’t move a muscle. Still on your back, with your knuckles fitted into your orbits, pushing down so you see stars._

_So you stop seeing Rachel crying on the floor._

_“There’s some shady shit going on with her and that photographer douche. You should call her.”_

_“She made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”_

_“Chloe.”_

_After you look up at her with your puffy eyes, she goes on, completely unfazed,_

_“Bull.Shit. We both know it. Stop being so goddamn stubborn and call her. I’ve seen her at school. She’s been miserable. That’s how I know. She hasn’t said anything to anyone. She barely talks to her friends anymore. Only hangs around Jeffersson and that’s it.”_

_She lets her words sink into your thick skull. “Call her.”_

_“…fine. Now please leave me alone to suffer.”_

_She hears the thank you, smiles._

_“Go get your girl.” Steph gets up and heads for the door._

_You kinda start crying all over again._

_5 missed calls. You keep walking around your room in a circle. You think the carpet frays in the same shape as your anxiety. You keep leaving her voice messages._

_“Rachel please, call me back. Just…I need to talk to you. Please.” There’s a bad feeling following you like a shadow._

_You throw yourself back in your bed and punch your pillow. 9 missed calls._

_You take a super long shower, so that your fingers take a break from clicking on the same buttons over and over again. You try calling her again as soons as the water is turned off._

_13 missed calls._

_You call her parents, but they don’t answer either. You smoke two joints one after the other, officially finishing your stash. Your eyes are so sensitive from crying they hurt. There’s a snake moving around in the pit of your stomach, only getting stronger with every missed call._

_In an act of desperation you call Frank. He answers, but you’d rather wish he didn’t when he tells you he hasn’t been able to reach Rachel either. You can hear the worry in his voice. It makes you mad, but it makes you sick even more. You hang up and rush to the toilet where you dry heave._

_17 missed calls._

 

 


End file.
